Paradise Sand
by Ukaisha
Summary: On a deserted beach on a summer evening, Kouji quietly reflects, and realizes that even with yucky sand and maniacal crabs running about, to lie alone with your lover is simply paradise. A Super Drabble, TakuyaxKouji or vice versa.


Disclaimer: The author takes absolutely no stake or claim for any characters mentioned.  
Warning: Shounen-ai.

A/N: Truthfully, this story was written a good long time ago, or at least this concept was. I finally redid it completely and decided to post it. This is what I call a "Super Drabble," a story consisting of exactly 1,000 words. It's also extremely fluffy and very gay, and very omfg that's too sweet -.- It's almost embarrassing. –Blushfaceplz-

I'm entering this in DigiWorld's Choices Contest, for the summer theme.  
Fun fact: This author note contains exactly 100 words, according to Microsoft Word x3

_Paradise Sand_

With a happy laugh I fall back into the coarse blanket of damp sand, panting and grinning madly up at you as you let yourself fall over me. Your smile is contagious, bursting with charm, and your face is shining bright as you watch me recover from my tickle-induced laughing fit. I know why you're so amused; you think it's intolerably adorable when I let myself go for once, and actually reveal that I, the emotionless human, suddenly could no longer control his feelings. Being with you fills me with an infectious gas, and I feel like quietly floating away, just to let these feelings thrive and expand. I like to feel these feelings.

You fall on top of me, playfully pinning me to the ground and smiling like it's simply the funniest thing in the world that you and I are here together, laughing and playing like children. You're such an impish, playful little tease to actually tickle me to the ground on a beach, even at sunset, and with nobody around to see you but me. No one but me to see you and your beauty, surrounded by hot, golden sand and foaming white surf.  
It should be illegal for you to wear nothing but a swimsuit, crimson red and perfectly blending with your deeply tanned skin. Your spiky chestnut hair drips non-stop on top of your shoulders and down your back as you roll off of me, sighing in contentment and pillowing your head with your sand speckled arms. You're all set and ready to lay there as long as it takes until I start to pout at you. Me, pout? Never.  
Unless you leave me lying in this horrible sand for too long. Honestly, Takuya, you know I hate the beach.  
It's not that I don't enjoy lying with you on this rough, squishy bed. I just don't entirely appreciate getting sand in places I'd rather not have _anything_ in, and sand in particular, especially with nothing on but swim trunks. Not to mention it's getting in my hair, and not just the hair on my head. My arms are totally covered with unpleasant, sticky sand…  
But you're as stubborn as a mule, you impish boy, and until I purposely ask you to leave, you'll lay there, digging your petite little feet into the cushioning sand as the surf gently washes over you. Of course, you pick the one spot where we'll constantly be attacked by the crashing waves with nothing to protect us, even though we'll be soaked from head to toe in a matter of minutes. I figure you do these things on purpose.

I settle on my bed and scoot closer to you, echoing your sigh and licking my cracked and chapped lips. I taste the two things I hate most on my tongue: salt water and sand. Ugh, how unpleasant. But I'm too proud to ask to leave because of these things, especially since this is your day, the day we spend completely according to you. You're so excited to have some time to relax at the beautiful beach you love so much, and I can't bring myself to take you away from your favorite sanctuary all because of my selfishness.

Nonetheless, I can't say this is very comfortable. The sticky, humid summer air is blowing a salty, fishy taste into my mouth and a sandy sting into my eyes, even though neither is open. My once shiny black hair is wet and stiff from the salt water and clumps of sand cling stubbornly to it; I KNOW it'll take a very thorough washing before it ever feels normal again. Twice now I've had a tiny brown crab scurry across my foot, and though you keep telling me that it wouldn't hurt very much if they pinched me, I still have a mini-panic attack at the sight of their deformed bodies. There's a thing between me and things that crawl: we hate each other.

Still, in a way, it's kind of nice here. We're just lying together, silent, and somehow happy to just be here together. Even as wave after wave rushes from the sea and lays a sheet of freezing cold over us, it's pleasant. The once cerulean sky is blushing to a magnificent fuchsia, and the radiant golden sun is falling behind the sea, like a fiery tear drop, before it disappears. The salty breeze is whistling a song with the skinny palm trees and the tall grass beyond the sand dunes; they're singing and humming to each other in a natural lullaby. Summer birds call and sing to each other from hidden places, and for once, nature itself overwhelms the roar of cars whizzing by on the road above us.  
All of a sudden, this is paradise. It's like we're lying in a dream; just two innocent lovers gazing into the never-ending sky, breathing the steamy summer air and shivering with the freezing ocean surf. And to make it all complete, to pass this point in time from dream to reality, you reach for my hand, and hold it gently. I squeeze back, wordlessly affirming our love. We don't even have to look at each other to know; we feel it. Despite the stupid stuff, like sand in your hair and not-at-all ferocious crabs, for some reason, this is simply perfect.  
For a short moment, I suppose, I'm a little glad that you convinced me to come out to this damn beach, where we could simply lay together and silently appreciate the beauty. Even the miserable sand is softer than our bed, because you lie in it with me.  
The moment quickly passes, however, when I suddenly feel something crawling in my swim trunks. Oh, God, I swear those crabs are out to get me.

For the record, I don't particularly appreciate you rolling around in the sand and laughing your little butt off as I struggle in vain to get a heinous crab out of my swimsuit, Takuya.


End file.
